


a wise man will say

by fated_addiction



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Manga), Code Name: Sailor V, Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minako is <i>so</i> not good at this. Mamoru is worse. They call these growing pains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a wise man will say

**Author's Note:**

> Man, it feels like it's been forever and a day since I have written anything. And Ari, your birthday was ages ago and I had this sitting around -- better late than never, right? Right? Anyways. Post-manga, awkward budding friendships; I just like living in this world.

Minako is not good at this.

Her phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. Artemis sniffs.

"Stop it," she warns, and scans the message.

WE NEED TO TALK.

"Who is it?" Artemis asks.

She shakes her head. "Mamoru-san," she says.

"Is Usagi okay?"

"I don't know." Her fingers fly across the keys. She thinks: _how did he get my number_. Then she remembers that Usagi is still absent-minded about smaller things; their communicators have sort of been forgotten. It's been a little over a month after Galaxia and her unease remains totally present.

**what**

COFFEE?

"He's an idiot," she tells Artemis.

"He's the future," her advisor says.

It's no secret that Minako doesn't like Mamoru. She may respect him a little, and little of that is because she has to, and more of that is because she loves Usagi and loves Usagi _too much_. There is a sense of duty and responsibility tossed in for good measure, grand if she were into that sort of thing.

She forces herself onto the counter though. She grips her phone too tightly. Her legs swing out and Artemis swings to rest by her knees.

**usa-chan?**

FINE. 

She blinks. "So he can't call?" she sighs loudly. Then she scowls. "What does he want me to say? Yes?"

COFFEE? comes again. It irritates her. Like she's at his beck and call. He'll be her king too, or whatever. She more than gets that. But -- and they all forget; Minako doesn't -- she has yet to have the same kind of transition in her memories like the rest of them. They all have families, sure. They all have friends, of course. There is nothing perfect. But Minako and her sense of duty have been alone a lot longer and going at it a lot farther than the rest of them.

**i h8 coffee**

She smirks and then adds: **makes me nuts!!**

WE NEED TO TALK.

"All _right_ ," she snaps.

"You knew this was coming," Artemis murmurs. "You are the leader. Galaxia is still fresh for all of you. There is a lot coming and Usagi still hasn't talked about what happened."

"I don't expect her to," she says.

She pauses. On the floor above her apartment, footsteps begin to patter. The couple just moved in; the kid is loud enough.

"But you want her to," Artemis argues.

MINAKO? except it comes out like M&NKQ! and she thinks one day she is going to give in and pat him on the head. He is brilliant. No one will argue that. But give the guy a smart phone and he'll sort of crumble under the simplicity.

"I can't believe she hasn't taught him how to text properly."

She can hear Usagi laugh in her head. _He hates it_.

**fine.**

She stares at the screen. The cursor blinks. Then she presses enter and waits. Her legs swing out again and Artemis snaps. His paw flicks at her skirt.

"I can hear you thinking," he says.

The truth is simple, she thinks. But she will leave it at that. She knows exactly where Mamoru wants to meet. She has a pretty good idea what he may have to say. She wonders if Usagi knows. She could let herself think that it matters.

But years of instinct speak for themselves. There is no need for a response; she sends another reply anyway.

**see you in ten**

This has been coming for a long time.

 

 

 

Venus did not like Endymoin.

This is also not a secret. In fact, imagine being thirteen and just filled with the sudden, inexplicable rage at knowing there was someone out there that you thought was a complete and utter, ridiculous waste of space and not understanding why; thirteen and that kind of rage makes for a strange and uncomfortable trip to the therapist. Her mother still never lets her forget.

The café is not even a block away. She cannot remember why she just knows. It sits too close between her place and his. She walks slowly. She pauses here and there to check some of the shops as they close. She sees a dress that Rei may like. She remembers a book that Ami was look for. She thinks of Haruka and scowls, but remembers to check her place because Usagi is _their_ princess and she was never good at sharing anyway.

Her walking is particular though. She comes around and too the door, ducking under the arm of a man that holds it open for her. There is a bell. A couple stands at the counter buying cupcakes.

She scans for Mamoru.

"I'm late."

Jumping, the man is at her side and Mamoru is touching her arm. She blinks. Then she is startled too late, fumbling backwards.

"Seriously?"

"I did say your name," he tells her, unapologetic.

Minako rolls her eyes. "Whatever." Drawing back, she hugs her arm to her chest. "Let's sit and get this over with."

Mamoru remains unfazed. "I'm getting a coffee."

She shrugs and turns. She picks the table in the back, furthest away from the door and a window, close enough to watch who comes in and who comes out. This is a habit. It's one of those that feels like they've been engrained in her, too deep to be anything but rational. They are the kind of habits that make her hate a lot of things.

She sits still. She watches him in line; he talks pleasantly to the older woman behind the counter. She pulls her phone out and leaves it on the table. She tries not to phrase out the conversation that is coming in her head. Chaos is gone. We need to do better. A lot of things are coming.

He sits, after. He settles the mug and spoon by a container of sugar.

"Thanks," he says.

"You said we needed to talk."

"Yeah." He looks down. His hair falls into his face. He looks tired, she thinks. She wonders if Usagi is sleeping. "We do," he agrees.

"So talk," she tells him.

His back is too straight against his chair. "I'm going to."

"You need to get to the point." She leans forward on her elbows. "I don't have a lot of time. I have a test. I have _two_ tests."

Mamoru chokes. "Really?"

She flushes angrily.

"Look." And then he pauses. There's a sound -- he sighs, then he sighs again, rubbing his hands together, then over the table. It's the weirdest fit of nerves she's seen from him. "We need to clear the air."

"Does she know you're here?" she counters.

Mamoru flushes this time. She sits straighter.

"I don't know. Probably. She's better than this than I am."

"Than us both," she agrees.

He smiles faintly. He looks to the wall; she looks down. They both aren't saying it: with Galaxia gone, Usagi looks a little more world weary. She wears it carefully. Her smiles are a little more pronounced. She carries herself like a queen. It makes Minako a little sad, a lot more proud, and everything else in between.

She thinks Mamoru gets it. She thinks it may be the one thing that they can agree on, the changes that are happening a little too quickly. But then again, they were never meant to be _just_ girls, go through the growing pains of falling in love and making mistakes and hating their parents a little too hard (although easier said than done for her) and really just moving up through life together. She knows she cannot be sad. She shouldn't. She isn't for herself because that is stupid and selfish and really unwise with what is coming up.

"We have to get over this," she says suddenly, and suddenly too, there is a flash of a man, of _that_ man right in front of her, smiling ironically, shaking his head.

"I know." Mamoru picks up his coffee. "It's why I --"

"You had plenty of time to talk to me," she interrupts.

His eyes narrow.

"Seriously, though."

"So did you," he points out. "Listen, I'm okay with you like this. I think that we can work together. I think we have to work together; she's the common denominator. You love her just as much as I do."

"I know it's not a competition," she argues.

"I'm not saying it is. I think a lot more of you than that. I also know that there is more we have to talk about --" and she gets a flash, that smile again, but ignores it too, "and it's like, look, it's always going to be there, this _thing_. I mean, I don't hate you, man. I know that she knows that at least. You're important to her. That makes you just important to me."

"But," he supplies.

"There's always a but," she says and looks away.

He smiles, or sort of smiles. It's an odd motion of the mouth. She catches the tail end of it. His lips twist at the corner. He shifts in his seat and still doesn't drink. He looks careful.

"Yeah," he says finally. "There is."

 

 

 

None of them can say they came back the same.

She remembers.

They were all wearing white, too much white, and waiting for Usagi. It was too easy to react when she finally appeared. They were crying and laughing and for once, weirdly, they all felt like a real family, knowing full well that they would go back into their places like Galaxia never happened, or Usagi never went through what she did, and the world just keeps moving on or whatever. Minako can read the drill upside down and backwards and blind if she had too.

And sure, soon they will all be saying and agreeing that they were all a little older anyway and that this one battle -- it's always going to be _one_ battle -- was no different than the rest. Warriors need a war. They needed a reason not to uphold dead laws and carry around the ghost of a kingdom that none of them really wanted to hold to close anymore.

Except Usagi was different.

 _Is_ different.

It's strange, still, knowing how things are changing.

 

 

 

"Have you talked to her?" she presses, finally.

Her knees knock together. She watches a group of girls enter, carrying books and notes and wearing messy glasses. University students, she thinks with jealousy.

"No."

"I don't want to talk about that."

His fingers start to tap against the table. They are too longer. He was a prodigy with the sword, she remembers suddenly.

She is a little put out by his response though.

"She's gotta tell someone," she mutters.

"Or she doesn't," he says, meeting her gaze. His eyes flash.

"Whatever," she waves a hand. "We're not talking about Usagi, remember?"

He groans.

"Minako," he starts.

"Ya, you wanted to clear the air, I get _it_." It's like things can't take a break for a second. She does not want to feel guilty for feeling the way she wants to. It takes time to build the kind of trust that she knows he's going to eventually ask for; Usagi can only do so much.

"We need to start somewhere."

"No kidding."

His eyes darken. "You can't keep resisting it."

"I don't have to like you Mamoru-san," she says. "I just have to respect you a little bit, right? But here's the thing --" and then suddenly, it's coming out, it's coming out so fast that she can't even keep herself in check like usual, "-- you're the one that loves her and you get to have that to yourself. You get to keep the things between the two of you _between_ the two of you. You get to have her secrets if she wants to give them to you. I get that she's going to keep things from us, all of us, and some things from you. I have to respect that. But my purpose, the senshi's purpose is to protect her, to be by her side when you're not. We are the last front. You're not. You're not supposed to be. You just get to love her. Do you get it? Do you need me to explain it again? Like, what do you want from me? Seriously?"

Her voice cracks. It's not supposed to. Her eyes are burning and she lifts her fingers to press into her forehead. She is not supposed to be like this. But she's shaky and a little panicky. Her throat is tight and it's delayed anger that is starting to surface and she doesn't know what to do or how to hold it back.

Maybe it's because Usagi isn't here. She would never let her see her like this. The others, sure. Maybe. A slim chance, probably. But there is something mortifying about Mamoru getting to see it, knowing that he is the closest stand in to Usagi that she gets to have.

It's more than that though. They both know. He may know more than she does; there's slight turn of recognition. His gaze sharpens. She sees him swallow and then look away. It almost makes her hate him.

"We have to figure this out," he says.

"What if we don't?"

"There's no time for _don't_ ," and his voice is far away, reaching really, "and you know this too." She slouches. Mamoru pushes his coffee with his knuckles. "I'm not asking you to pretend," he says. She hears the amusement in his voice. "I respect you too much for that. But it's coming, you know, and if I had a choice, if it were going to be me against the four of you, it would - it _should_ be the four of you."

Minako shakes her head. "Stop it," she says tiredly. "You're being patronizing."

"You don't get it," he says.

She looks at him. He looks like a king. She keeps thinking that way, off-handedly. Like to try and get used to the idea. Or even to convince herself. Or maybe, just to play the game.

"I love her too much," he says. He stops. Then it's a confession: "I know it makes me irresponsible. It makes irrational and unable to think beyond loving her. I know I can only give her so much. I wonder a lot if me loving her is enough."

Her mouth tightens. She makes fists against the table. She doesn't need to hear this, she thinks.

"I guess I'm asking for a compromise," Mamoru admits. "You can give what I can't, or maybe couldn't do to begin with. I know it's asking a lot from you. I know she'll probably -- it doesn't matter. You can be her friend too, you know. I think that's really what she wants the most, you see. She just wants a friend. And she just wants to be _your_ friend."

She feels the guilt start to crawl into her, slowly, oh so slowly. It's a mirror expression on Mamoru's face too. Odd, really, how it kind of dawns on her the way he's just sort of been wearing it. They have brushed Galaxia under the table like always, hoping to be children just a little bit longer; live their lives just a little bit farther; consequences are both strange and terrible things.

And, _oh_. This is how it hits her.

 

 

They end up walking.

Mamoru stops to buy roses. Minako rolls her eyes.

"They're for her mother," he awkwardly explains. "We have dinner, later. Her father got another promotion."

Then she remembers. Her guilt swells again; Usagi's parents moved a few months ago. Smaller apartment, deeper in the city. Rei found out first and told Makoto who told Ami who told Minako back in passing. The second and third time don't matter. Things happen. Moving days were insignificant quickly. 

"Roses though," she manages, and his mouth is sort of tight, and maybe he's a little embarrassed. The color in his cheeks change. He pulls at the collar of his jacket.

"She likes them."

"Mmhm."

She steps in. She selects a pair of small bunches, yellow daisies and replaces them in the vendor's hand.

"These are better," she says.

The vendor smiles. "He's useless?"

"Sort of," she grouses, and eyes Mamoru. His expression is unreadable. "He apparently has to woo the in-laws-to-be."

"Brother?" the old woman nods to Mamoru.

His mouth opens. She elbows him in the hip. 

"He likes to think," she says, maybe too easily, but really, what else is she supposed to say? Usagi would laugh at them, she thinks. It would be good to listen to Usagi laugh again. She cannot remember the last time since then.

The woman laughs and Mamoru pays. Minako turns and rests against the counter, half-listening to the rest of their transaction. She stares at the windows, watching people pass by; trying to work what crystal may or may not look like in the city. She'll miss the gray, she thinks. Or she'd like to think. Peace is relative, right.

When he finishes, they leave the small shop. She follows Mamoru. They separate sometime soon; he'll go off to Usagi's, she'll go home and maybe call her parents, listen to them argue, and not miss London. There is a level of silence that she is not prepared. There are more ghosts that are ready to come. And this will only ever be the time she thinks to acknowledge _him_ because Mamoru does not get to acknowledge _him_ just like she doesn't get to acknowledge him in that way too; she thinks this is why Usagi is pushing, or even making that kind of calculated move because that too, like always, will come to pass -- quickly, cruelly, and just as abruptly as it started. This is what being leader is about, after all.

She stops at a crossroad though. Tokyo Tower glitters just over the park. She thinks, vaguely, that she's been around this street before.

"Good luck," she says to Mamoru.

"Thanks," he says. He clutches the daisies. "I --"

She waves a hand. "It's not over, yeah. I know."

"I guess I just needed to say it to you."

Minako feels herself soften. It's awkward. They _are_ awkward. Her hands slide into her pockets and she scrapes her nails against the fabric.

"I don't hate your guts, you know."

He laughs, rubbing his eyes. "You do. It's okay."

"Is it though?"

He steps forward. His fingers loop around her hair. He gives it a quick tug. Her eyes widen. She flushes and then he pats her head.

"Don't hit me," he says. "Trying not to," she says at the same time, and he laughs again.

There is a real warmth. She feels it. She can sees these things; those red lines that tie everyone together, short and small and long and knotted tightly. She knows theirs lives.

Minako is also terrible at this -- maybe just as terrible as he is. Maybe even more. And she cannot look him in the eye, feeling awkward, feeling young, feeling everything but the leader she is supposed to be. This is too sudden and too intimate and she pulls herself back, just for the little bit of space that she needs.

He gives it to her. "That's all I can ask," he says.

 

 

 

The next time she sees Usagi, she weaves her fingers into that silver-gold hair and braids them together because she can and she will and no one will notice in the middle of their sleepover, in the middle of the Tsukino's brand new living room. There is a movie on and Shingo is eyeing Rei as she and Ami try and _not_ talk about quantum mechanics. Makoto is laughing. It feels a like it did before, just them, only them.

There are still daisies in a vase. The buds are full. They stay light and warm; she has already told the story twice.

It makes Usagi laugh.


End file.
